


Year Two: Epilogue

by DragonaireAbsolvare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Exams, Future, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Second Year, Ministry, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonaireAbsolvare/pseuds/DragonaireAbsolvare
Summary: [Professor McGonagall stood up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione)]A follow up of what happened at Hogwarts after that particular announcement.
Kudos: 13





	Year Two: Epilogue

**Year Two: Epilogue**

_[ Harry had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!" or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologize endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle, or his and Ron's four hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news._ ]

Later, in the Transfigurations classroom.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the class of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. “Honestly, Mr Wellesley, did you think you seventh-year students would be exempt from your NEWTs?”

“But the Headmaster-!”

McGonagall’s lips thinned more what than should have been humanly possible. “If you still hope to secure a position in the Auror Corps, I suggest you aim for Outstandings in your NEWTs.

Wellesley groaned into his palms. _That barmy old coot!_

The NEWTs were as nastily-exhausting as usual, and the seventh-years suffered terribly for it.

Three years later, Juror Wellesley ran out of the Wizengamot courtroom, rushing to meet the Minister.

“... really gone senile, I daresay.” Fudge was saying.

Lucius Malfoy smiled thinly. “Yes, Minister. We should have him replaced.”

Both men noticed Wellesley, and Fudge greeted him warmly. It wouldn’t do to make enemies of old Pureblood heirs when the elections were so close.

“Were you talking about Dumbledore, Minister?” Wellesley asked, his pimply face ruddy and beaming in excitement.

“Why, yes, Mr Wellesley.” Lucius Malfoy said. “Although I believe it wouldn’t be beneath the old codger to pull a few quick moves whilst we dredge through the paperwork required.”

Wellesley smiled slyly. “I would suggest our illustrious Undersecretary for the Defence post.”

Fudge blinked. “Dolores? Whatever would she do there?” Lucius Malfoy caught on very easily, being the sly snake he was. He leaned into Fudge’s ear to whisper ill and Wellesley watched in great satisfaction as realization bloomed on the Minister’s face. “Excellent idea, m’boy. I ought to award you something for that.”

“I would much appreciate it if you could get me into the Auror training programme, Minister.”

Fudge scratched his chin thoughtfully, and then frowned. “You’re from the 1992-1993 NEWT batch, aren’t you?”

The young man’s heart began sinking. It was common knowledge that every student of that particular academic year had performed abysmally in their NEWTs, and not one student had achieved a pass grade in Defence.

“Yes, sir.” He bit out.

The Minister shook his head sadly. “I’m really sorry, young man, but the minimum grades for the training programme still apply. But on the bright side, aren’t you doing brilliantly in the Wizengamot? I knew your father had made the right decision passing his seat to you.”

The young flunky grit his teeth and curled his fingers into a fist, nails digging into his palm. Hate welled up inside him at the memory of that horrible, life-changing night, intense and all-consuming loathing towards the white-bearded old bastard who had closed the doors on the dreams of so many seventh-years.

“So, Minister-” Malfoy turned to Fudge with a calculative smile. “About Dumbledore...?”

Oh, Wellesley hoped.

***

* * *


End file.
